Turning Points—Finding Grace in Chaos
Catherine Senghas, Ministerial Intern
October 21, 2007

Text:
I want first of all…to be at peace with myself. I want a singleness of eye, a purity of intention, a central core to my life that will enable me to carry out [my] obligations and activities as well as I can. I want, in fact—to borrow from the language of the saints—to live “in grace” as much of the time as possible. I am not using this term in a strictly theological sense. By grace I mean an inner harmony, essentially spiritual, which can be translated into outward harmony. I am seeking perhaps what Socrates asked for in the prayer from Phaedrus when he said, “May the outward and inward man be at one.” I would like to achieve a state of inner spiritual grace from which I could function and give as I was meant to in the eye of God.”
(From Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea)

When I first started to think about this morning’s sermon, which was when I had to turn it its title for the newsletter, I was thinking I might explore the possibility of finding a silver lining in the sudden turn of events that started the year here. I’m guessing it felt a bit like chaos for you all, it certainly did for me, as I wasn’t yet grounded here. Since the time of choosing my title I confess that I’ve progressed toward a feeling of “transition fatigue” and maybe some of you have, too.

I want to tell you a story; it’s a true story that happened more than twenty-five summers ago. There was a group of young people, mostly in their mid-to-late twenties, who decided to have a sort of mini-reunion one summer. Most of them had met when they worked together in their first jobs out of college, but as things often go at that age, already more than half of them had moved onto other things—more education, different jobs. Some had already married, so there were a few add-ons to the group. They decided to gather together inexpensively by staying for a couple of days in a few adjacent tent sites at a campground right on the Saco River in Maine. It was late summer, so it was after the buggy season and the swimming would be wonderful. They looked forward to cooking over the fire, catching up on each other’s lives, and just being outdoors and away from the rat race of their everyday lives. It would be peaceful and relaxing.

On one of the afternoons most of them headed just a bit upstream for swimming and diving from a big log that hung out over the river. A couple of the women stayed behind at the campsite, talking together, since they hadn’t seen each other for some time. One of them was fairly newly married, just coming up on her first wedding anniversary, and she was already pregnant, almost in her seventh month. The other was also pregnant, but not as far along. So they were feeling a little more tired than the others, and happy for the chance to rest. Eventually the two decided that they, too, would go into the river for a refreshing swim, but just there by the campsite, and not up around the bend where all the raucous excitement was. They got into their swimsuits and waded into the river. It was fairly wide and calm there by the campsite and they decided to swim out into the middle, maybe even cross it and then come back. They both considered themselves pretty strong swimmers.

They were enjoying the feeling of their bodies moving through the water when suddenly they entered the current. They had not anticipated it, as the surface of the water had appeared so calm. They tried to resist panicking—“Can you feel this?” one said. “Maybe it’s not such a great idea to cross, let’s turn back.” And so they tried. The one whose pregnancy was less far along had an easier time, and soon was out of the current. The other one was struggling and trying to figure out the best strategy—should she fight the current and swim directly toward the campground? That seemed to tire her out the most quickly. Her center of gravity was so much lower than she had ever experienced, so that she felt that she didn’t even know her body now. Should she just let the current carry her? The idea frightened her very much, as she didn’t know whether she might be carried into even greater danger. The others were all upstream and out of earshot, and more upstream by the minute. In her mind’s eye she saw a nightmare unfold—her drowning would not be a tragedy only for the group. Her young husband might never forgive himself for having gone off to swim with his old buddies, although it was certainly her own actions that put her at risk—maybe he would never forgive her. She was carrying in her womb the first grandchild on both sides. She took a very deep breath and summoned all her strength and swam back out of the current at an angle that was easier and toward downstream. Once she was in safer shallower waters she returned upstream to the campground.

And then it was over. When the others returned it was hardly worth re-telling, since they were still reveling in their diving adventures, and ready to grill dinner and drink beer and toast marshmallows. But the young woman had learned a lot about herself, her priorities, and her strength that afternoon in that physical challenge. She resolved to be more responsible and self-aware in her self-indulgences. She had changed.

So many times we hear of an event or experience that profoundly changes someone. Perhaps you, like I, have friends who have survived critical illnesses who see that experience as integral to their current understanding of who they are and why they are here. Though each would say that they would never have wished for their disease, some of them have actually come to see it as a gift of grace that has deeply enriched their lives.

When I speak of grace, I’m not thinking of the classic definition that describes grace as “the freely given, unmerited favor and love of God.” That definition relies on a traditional image of God that I can’t quite embrace. But there is another definition of grace that I am comfortable with, as it allows me to assume a more open definition of God, which I’ll refer to more generally as the divine. That definition describes grace as the influence or spirit of the divine operating in humans to regenerate or strengthen them. And I believe that we are responsible for welcoming that spirit if we want to reap its benefit. In our reading we heard the reflective intentions of Anne Morrow Lindbergh, as she professed, “I want a singleness of eye, a purity of intention, a central core to my life that will enable me to carry out [my] obligations and activities as well as I can…. I would like to achieve a state of inner spiritual grace from which I could function and give as I was meant to in the eye of God.”

Ramakrishna, a 19th century Hindu teacher in India, said, “The breeze of divine grace is blowing upon us all. But one needs to set the sail to feel this breeze of grace.” It is in the times of greatest turmoil that we can be led to new heights of creativity and healing if we can engage the grace that is ever present, both within and around us. It is sometimes hard to have the self-discipline to engage it—how much easier it is to indulge our disappointment, our dissatisfaction, our inclination to critique! Or even to just go along and watch whatever is unfolding, not acting on our grace-informed impulse to say something or take action.

If we look back at some of the events on the national stage in recent years, the planes flying into the Twin Towers in New York City on September 11th, 2001, the more recent Gulf hurricanes Katrina and Rita, we might reflect on how we felt and how we responded, individually and as a community. While I confess that I hardly got very directly involved in responding to those crises, other than making donations and participating in the various socks and teddy bear drives in my home parish, it was in the aftermath of what we now refer to simply as “9-11” that I downloaded the application to seminary. I had considered doing so on several occasions earlier, but it was seeing the many folks in my non-church world who were so bereft of a way to process what was happening, and wishing for them a spiritual home like I had, that awoke in me what was perhaps an evangelical spark.

One of the seven principles that Unitarian Universalists affirm and promote is “Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.” Personally, I interpret this seventh principle as encompassing far more than ecological issues, perhaps even encompassing several of the other principles that speak to community and compassion. For me it is a prompt to consider, in every action I take or word that I speak, the impact on other people as well as on the environment. It was, in fact, the awareness of the impact of her impending drowning that allowed the young woman in my story to summon greater power than she was sensing that she had at that moment. She wasn’t consciously praying, nor was she thinking of God’s will, whatever that is, she was just doing everything she could to hold her world together, the world that was larger than her own self, more than she had ever really worried about until then.

It is not only crisis situations that call for this greater awareness. From dawn to dusk each day our responses to what arises, however minor, shape the world for us and for those around us. Can we remember that? Can we just remember that? How do we respond when we are suddenly caught in a current we hadn’t anticipated? Do we fight rashly to get back to where we were before? Do we just drift along, perhaps allowing even more complicated situations to evolve? Or do we consciously choose a path that leads to a positive outcome? We find ourselves with much to do in these next two years that we hadn’t anticipated, and perhaps we might think of the idea of “finding grace in chaos” as an intentional strategy for embracing this change. And it’s a strategy that might serve us well in many other situations.

Earlier we heard the choir sing the familiar words, “Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come; ‘tis grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.” Our lives, each and every one of our lives, are part of the creative process that shapes the world of the future, of the very next hour. Many creation stories, such as the biblical Genesis story and the Gilgamesh epic, start from darkness or chaos, and within this, infinite potential exists. May we open ourselves to find grace in all the chaos we encounter, and continue to craft lives of meaning together.

Amen.


Catherine Senghas, copyright October 2007